You Are an Idiot
by sunshinetina
Summary: Kid!Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, has always referred to him as an 'idiot'. And Sherlock believes him. Until kid!John comes and gives him all the courage needed. P.S. Based on the fabulous art of 'thebritishteapot' on tumblr:


**YOU ARE AN IDIOT**

Damn this book, damn this school, damn those kids around who just don't give me any break. Close our mouths, for God's sake, I want to read!

Mycroft says I am an idiot. I hate him.

No, I mean… He is probably right. I am the idiot-est idiot of them all. Recently can't even go to my Mind Palace without thinking of thousand other things. Like now. I am trying to read – better, to improve my reading speed. Yet, not only those childish noises distract me and irritate my soft ears, but also Jim and the new kid (John was his name, right? There's something strange about him, I don't know.) are discussing me right now. There are sitting on the table over there and from what I can deduce (I am so skillful at lip reading), they are plotting something against me. I am absolutely sure. I bet Jim wants to 'ssssskin me' once again because I sipped some ink in his afternoon tea two days ago. And in Sebastian's too. The latter one is still sick and at home. Thanks God.

I sharpen my ears in order to be able to hear just something from their discussion. Not that it is of any interest to me. But… come on!

Oh, damn kids, shut up! You, ordinary people, are so boring – shouting and stuff. I can't read, nor hear anything from the table over there. Damn it.

'Have you met the new kid yet?'

What a dummy. Everyone has met me, obviously. And everyone hates me already. _Obviously._

'He spends all his time reading alone like we're not good enough.'

You, particularly, are not, Jim. Still can't understand what you meant by 'You are me.' when we met. I don't know. I don't like not knowing.

'I swear, this is the time when I am gonna burn someone!'

I smirk and try to focus on my book when I hear no response from the other kid. Burning me? This is sooo two years ago, when I burned myself trying to burn Mrs Hudson's cat – this is our rather strange neighbour. Not our landlady. Although she performs some _landlady-like_ duties from time to time.

'Shut up, Jim.'

I try not to look up but it is quite impossible. Did he just tell him to shut up? Did he… _defend_ me?

I can see him with the corner of my eyes. He is standing up, slowly dragging his feet towards me. I gulp and try to look at my book.

'Hey! Can I sit here?'

Do I correct him that it is not _can___but _may_? Or he would tell me to 'shut up' as well?

He is looking at me with such an intensity, I can feel my heart being – oh, God – _burned_. What an idiot I am indeed: being speechless and thoughtless in front of an ordinary boy I just met. Not true, though – I've met him long ago, just… well, didn't think he would spare his time talking to me. _Everyone hates me_, after all.

'From what I can deduce on your motive skills…' what a brilliant deduction, Sherlock! _Idiot_, 'I'd say you _can_. Whether you _may_ is another topic of discussion.'

He just stares blankly at me and I hesitate on whether to continue looking at him or to try to read a line from my book.

'But I wouldn't do that,' I purse my lips and shrug. He sits down next to me, pressing his short legs to his tiny body.

'But why not?'

'Because I-…' _I don't have friends_, I want to say, but just rub it off, 'Because you wouldn't want to sit with a stupid kid like me.'

'Who says that?' his reaction is instantaneous. I expected him to say something like _true, you are_, but no. I knew there was something about him. Still don't know what. Did I mention I don't like not knowing?

'My brother. He says that when he was my age he was able to read a page in half the time than I do. I bet you all are even faster, aren't you?,' Mycroft is not really _that_ smart. No, he _is_, dammit, 'You two were talking about how much better and fast reading you are.'

'With whom?'

'With that boy – Jim Moriarty. I know you were talking about me. I may be an _idiot_ but I have some common sense,' I pouted and looked back at my book.

'No one can read yet, Sherlock. That's why we are at school.'

He knows my name. Alert! The boy – _the boy_ – knows my name!

'So you are saying…'

He smiles slightly.

'You obviously are sm-…'

'Ordinary people are idiots?'

He sighs and shrugs, 'Well, yeah. Yeah, you can say that. I am ordinary too. But you are smart.'

'No, I am not.'

'Yes, you are.'

'No, I am not.'

'Yes, you are.'

'Oh, for God's sakes, Sherlock! You are the smartest and cleverest and most genius man I have ever known. And _of course_ I forgive you for calling me _ordinary_ and, apparently, an _idiot_.'

I shut up and he frowns. I try to say something but it would not make any sense and I bite my lower lip.

'Well… I-… I am… the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arse that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet…'

'Whatever all those bunch of words mean – by the way, showing your huuuuuge vocabulary capacity – yes, you are an arse,' he laughed, 'But I like you. And I don't like Jim.'

I blinked several times. Ok, maybe… for twenty seconds. Or more. I don't know.

'Ok, this is getting a bit scary now.'

'You-…'

'Don't like Jim, yeah.'

'-like me?'

He stopped and nodded. Smiled.

'Yes, of course I do.'

'And you think I am smart?'

'Yes, I do. What, others don't?'

I shrug, 'Well, not their usual words.'

'Which are?'

'_Piss off._'

He laughs and I vaguely smile. He stands up, 'Come on, you need to help me out with my chemistry homework – been bugging me for centuries.'

'Technically, the homework is from yesterday and-…'

'Shut up, Sherlock.'

'I am pretty sure you'll do it on your own – it's _elementary, Watson_,' he smiles and shakes his head.

'Obviously, you know my name too.'

'Little you know, little you know,' I tap his notebook, 'Go on, you can do this.'

'No, I can't.'

'I am not the best at chemistry – ask Molly, for example.'

'No, you are. Because you are Sherlock Holmes – you're clever as it gets,' I smile. My pride is immeasurable now but I am trying to hide it. I take the pen and sigh. He leans at me and whispers.

'And, by the way, you were probably such a _slow_ reader because you were reading it upside-down. Just saying,' John chuckled and I closed my eyes, desperately trying not to smile (and to admit that _he_ was the one distracting me).

'And you'd have to be an _idiot_ not to see it. You love it.'

'Love what?'

'Despite your brother's words, you love being the smart arse and whatever the pompous words were. Being _Sherlock Holmes_.'

'I don't even know what that's supposed to mean.'

'You know, you know. The same way you knew I like you but couldn't believe it.'

'Why, on Earth, would I do that?' I frown. He smirks.

'_Cause you are an idiot._'


End file.
